


Of Druids, Dragonborn, and Stormcloaks.

by Reisil



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft/Skyrim
Genre: Crossover, Dragonborn - Freeform, Druids, F/M, OC, Skyrim - Freeform, Slow Burn, Smut, Stormcloak timeline, Stormcloaks, Violence, World of Warcraft - Freeform, accidentally turned into an entire headcannon, minor characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reisil/pseuds/Reisil
Summary: When a Druid living secluded in Mount Hyjal accepts a mission that goes awry, she finds herself in a new world with new rules and a new role to play. She must forge new alliances and find her place in this strange, but familiar world. How will she adapt, and will she be able to find her way home? Will she want even want to go home?





	Of Druids, Dragonborn, and Stormcloaks.

     Rowena didn’t see it coming. She had been, unsuccessfully, trying to adjust to her new and foreign surroundings. She expected it had only been a few weeks since she was forcefully…removed from Hyjal, but it felt like an eternity already. Her powers were near inaccessible and it had taken her days to even figure out how to tap into the magic that flowed beneath the earth of her new home. Once she was successful, she quickly realized that she was diminished and rather pathetic compared to the power she once wielded in Hyjal. _Damn those shoddy warlocks!_

     Having accepted a summons by the Cenarion Circle in Hyjal, she was sent on a simple scouting mission. Apparently a small sect of warlocks had broken away from the Twilight’s Hammer and were becoming a thorn for the Cenarion Circle, a thorn that needed to be plucked before it festered. Her mission had been simple, get in, learn the layout, and get out. When she arrived it was quickly evident that she had been expected.

     “Ah, so I finally get to meet the infamous druid that has been causing our group so much…hassle,” the warlock had sneered at her. In her disgust she was careless and hasty in her attempt to kill him. Without thinking she’d shifted into her cat form and lunged for the warlock.             
     "And now druid, you will never see the light of day again!” He’d shouted with glee as a powerful force punched through her, midair.  
      She had woken up in an unfamiliar landscape because the warlock had overestimated his own ability and his spell went awry. Instead of banishing her to the Twilight Realm like she expected it was supposed to, she ended up elsewhere.

     She expected that the spell was meant to banish a human to the Realm of Deathwing. However, she was not a human, she was a worgen; a human that had contracted a curse and was changed into a werewolf,  effectively. On top of that she had specialized as a Druid of the Wild and was granted the power to shape shift. The warlock most likely did not consider to account for this while he crafted the spell before he cast it on her. The result; she ended up in a foreign land without many of her forms and abilities to aid her. All that remained of her abilities were her feline and hawk forms, the ability for minor restoration, her knowledge of combat, and a few attack spells. Even the worgen had been stripped from her, including her heightened senses.

     Now, having not seen, or sensed an ambush as she had tried to cross an unknown border, she was captive and bound and being taken somewhere most likely unpleasant.

 --

     “Good, you’re awake!” The blonde warrior across from her addressed her as she came out of her forcefully induced slumber. “Caught you trying to cross the border, eh? Unlucky for you.” His accent was a juxtaposition of lilting and guttural, but she was able to understand him. _Oddest accent I’ve heard yet, though._ She didn’t respond, instead she looked around at the others in the back of the wagon with her. Four in total, her, the blonde soldier in front of her, an unknown man in rags beside him, and then the gagged but regal looking man beside her.

     “What’s his problem?” The man in rags asked nodding to the gagged man.

     “Watch your tongue! That is Ulfric Stormcloak, the rightful High King of Skyrim!” The blonde warrior snapped at the man. _Ulfric? Skyrim?_ Her mind processed the small bits of information quickly. It was obvious to her from the moment she awoke in this new land that she was no longer in Hyjal, but now it was apparent that she was also no longer anywhere on Azeroth or the Outlands. As an added bonus, from the way the blonde man talked, there was a war currently happening over a disputed leadership.

     “Ulfric Stormcloak!? If they’ve captured you, then…oh gods!” The man despaired and put his head in his hands.

     “I don’t know where they’re taking us, but Sovngarde awaits,” the blonde warrior murmured mostly to himself.

     “Quiet back there!” The driver of the wagon snapped over his shoulder, though he needn’t have bothered; the conversation went no further. Rowena looked at the man beside her again. His dress was far more sophisticated than any of the rest of them, even her with her light travelling gear on. His cloak was embellished with silver thread and covered in, what she thought, was bear pelt; it was a rich shade of blue. Her eyes traveled up to his face which was partly covered with the gag and impassive, but his eyes blazed with rebellion and…anger? It was hard to look directly in his eyes for long, such a piercing blue were they.

     She let her eyes fall away from his face and glanced around the wagon, stretching to look around as far as she could while bound. She noted that they were coming up on a large wooden gate. If she had the energy to perform a shapeshift to escape, she would have done so by now. As it was she was groggy from being hit on the head and exhausted. No, she would have to wait and see what was on the other side of the gate.

     “Prisoners for the block!” The driver of the wagon shouted up at the guard standing watch.

     “Looks like you’ve captured Stormcloak, this is a great day for the Imperials indeed,” the guard at the gate remarked as the gate swung open. The gagged man beside her grunted in response to the exchange. _So, after everything, I am to be beheaded in a foreign land; laughable._

     She had survived countless skirmishes and all out wars, she had survived the invasion of the burning legion, the undead, and she had killed the very Lich King. She had stopped the end of the world, gone back and forth in time and stopped numerous enemies, all to be beheaded for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

     Bitter laughter bubbled up in her throat and escaped through her lips. The more she thought about it, the funnier it became. She threw her head back and howled at the sky. Her companions in the wagon were looking at her oddly when her laughter faded. The Imperials merely wore looks of contempt mixed with disgust.

     “You’re all so…petty,” she remarked tiredly when she regained her composure. The blonde warrior bristled at her comment and was about to snap back when the horse thief jumped up and tumbled out of the wagon.

     “I’m not supposed to be here! I am not going to die here!” He ran towards the still open gate.

     “Guards!” An Imperial archer shot the man down before he was even able to take five steps.

     The wagon rolled slowly to its destination, finally coming to a creaking stop. The guards snapped at the rest of the prisoners to stand and exit the back in an orderly fashion. An Imperial soldier stood at the back of the cart with a list. Rowena looked around and noticed that there were already a bunch of prisoners standing around the chopping block, many of whom were dressed in the same blue that the blonde warrior wore; the same blue that Stormcloak wore.

     “Ralof of Riverstead, Nord,” the Imperial soldier put a mark on the paper as the blonde warrior stepped off the wagon.

     “Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm, Nord,” the regal man with the blazing eyes sauntered towards the rest of the prisoners.

     “Who, are you?” The Imperial soldier looked at her as she stepped down.

     “Rowena,” was all she said.

     “Are you a Nord, where do you hail from?”

     “I am…human, from far away,” her voice sounded odd to her. It had been so long since she had spoken to anyone. Her accent sounded lilting and strange after hearing the guttural accent of Skyrim.

     “Captain, what do we do? She’s not on the list,” the soldier turned to the woman standing off to the side.

     “She goes to the block!” the captain snapped.

     “I’m sorry about this,” was all the soldier said as he pushed her towards the rest of the prisoners. Rowena did not feel fear at the prospect of death. She did not welcome it either, but she was indifferent. Maybe it was because she was so… _tired._ She had been training and fighting and leading wars for so long that the thought of being caught up in another war in a strange land was just exhausting. Her deepest desire was to retire in the mountains of Hyjal, far from anyone else and live the rest of her days in peace. She had the appearance of a woman in her late twenties, but in actuality she was probably closer to seventy winters by now. Being a druid had its perks, extended life being one of them.

     “It was an honour to serve you, my Jarl,” one of the prisoners remarked as he stood up straight and walked toward the block. “I do not have all day, my ancestors wait to welcome me in Sovngarde!” The man cut the priestess giving the final rights short and knelt at the block. The axe came down with a dull thud. Rowena didn’t even flinch.

     “Next, the unknown woman,” the captain called. Rowena was roughly pushed towards the block and forced to kneel. The block was wet and hot with the blood of the man before her. She flinched when she felt the stickiness against her own neck. Her eyes traveled up to the gleaming axe held above her head. She saw her own reflection staring back at her. Sharp green eyes that almost seemed to glow framed by a rounded, innocent looking face that was tanned from prolonged exposure to the elements. A mane of wild auburn hair framed her face, matted with sweat and foliage. _I should brush it more often_.

     She closed her eyes and breathed deep. In the distance she heard a roar that resonated in her very soul, but she paid it no mind. _It is probably just my imagination anyways, the musings of a person about to breathe their last._

     “What was that?” One of the Imperials asked. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had heard it after all.

     “Just carry on!” The captain barked at the executioner. The axe was raised high above her head, leaving her a view of the tower and the mountain range beyond. _Not a bad view._

     The axe was about to complete the downward stroke when a dragon, angry and a deep shade of black roared as it flew over the mountain range to land on the tower. The executioner’s axe was knocked out of his hands as rubble from the tower landed on him. Rowena wasted no time in getting up and running for the nearest shelter. This was not the first dragon she had ever seen, but it was the first she had faced in her current state, and she wanted to get the binds off her wrists before any sort of combat.

     The dragon bit out words in a strange language and the sky opened up to rain fire down on the town. Rowena paused in her escape, she could almost, _almost_ taste the words that the dragon had Shouted.

     “Prisoner, this way if you want to live!” The blonde warrior from the back of the wagon appeared in the doorway of a stone barracks. She stumbled through the door as he held it open and tripped through the doorway to land on her stomach. Before she could roll over and get back on her feet, strong hands gripped her arms that were still tied behind her back and righted her.

     “Was…was that a dragon!? I thought they were only legends,” one of the prisoners that also escaped sounded on the verge of hysterics.

     “Legends don’t burn down villages,” a deep voice intoned from behind her. She felt the bonds loosening from her wrists and rolled her shoulders when they fell away.

     “Thank you,” she said before going over to one of the dead prisoners. Kneeling down she picked up a sword and swung it experimentally, testing the weight. It wasn’t good, but it would have to do.

     “We should get out of here,” the blonde warrior, _Ralof_ , said.

     “Only way is up,” Rowena nodded to the stairs. She didn’t wait for anyone to agree or disagree, she just started climbing. She only got halfway up the stair case when the wall was blown apart right in front of her, and the maw of the dragon breathed fire into the hole.

     “ _Yol Tor Shuul,”_ the words resonated inside of her again, and she had the same feeling that she could almost grasp them.

     When the dragon lifted off into the sky again she looked behind her to see if anyone had been caught by the rubble or the fire. Ralof was right behind her followed by a Stormcloak soldier and then the Regal Man.

     “We’re going to have to jump,” she informed them. Again, she didn’t wait for confirmation and just made the leap. She landed on the tattered roof of the building below her, falling through and rolling to her feet.

     “Dragons, always so theatrical,” she muttered to herself as she quickly recovered from the leap, looking for cover from the raining fire. She heard Ralof, the Regal Man and several of the other prisoners tumbling out of the stone tower and into the ruined house after her. She turned to make sure that they had survived when a large flaming post fell across the building. She leaped backwards and shielded her face from the flying embers. Squinting, she tried to see Ralof and company through the cloud of ash, smoke, and flame but was quickly forced to escape the burning house, lest she ignite with it. She worried, briefly, for their safety as she fled.

     She darted across the open courtyard and behind another watchtower, looking for a way out of the doomed village. _I need to get out of here, quickly._ She was in no shape to try and fight an obviously angry dragon. She needed to regain her strength, relearn her magic and find somewhere to stay in the meantime. Rowena was so caught up in her thoughts as she crouched behind crumbling watchtower that she failed to notice someone coming up on her.

     “Still alive, prisoner?” Rowena recognized the man who snuck up beside her as the one who had been holding the list at the chopping block. “You should stick close if you want to stay that way,” he said her with a tight smirk. Rowena rolled her eyes, the irony was not lost on her; half an hour ago he was about to be one of her executioners. “No hard feelings, eh? I didn’t actually think you deserved to be executed.” She turned to look back at him. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth was a thin line, the hand that gripped his sword shook.

     “You’re scared,” her words were blunt. “Have you never seen a dragon before?”

     “By the gods, of course not! They’re myths,” the guard sounded almost scandalized by her question.

     “A myth is burning down your village.” Rowena used the same words that the Regal Man had used in the tower, only moments before. She only had a brief moment to ponder why no one had ever seen a dragon until now, when the watchtower they were using as cover began to quake and crumble.

     “We have to move! Quickly, follow me prisoner,” the guard took off across the courtyard and ran towards a stone building at the corner of the village. Rowena hesitated for a brief moment, glancing around for a sign of Ralof and party, but then followed the Guard with the List. The building he led them to was a barracks or housing unit for guards and soldiers and it was situated at the corner of the village, right against the stone walls that held them all in. When the door clanged shut behind her, Rowena glanced around. No one was inside, weapons and packs lay abandoned and scattered.

     “There are tunnels that go under the walls that will take us out of here. We had them closed up quite a while ago, but I have a feeling that the destruction may have knocked them open again.” Rowena glanced at the guard, he was still afraid, but his voice was steady and firm.

     “Lead the way then, Guard with the List.” The Guard looked back at her with mirth in his eyes and then laughed.

     “‘Guard with the List?’ I am called Hadvar, but good one Prisoner,” he said when his laughter died down. “What about you? Can’t be calling you Prisoner anymore, can I?”

     “I am Rowena,” she supplied as she followed him deeper into the barracks.

     Hadvar led her down and through a seeming network of tunnels, where she got separated, not entirely by accident. Better to distance herself now than to have a confrontation later. Hadvar was helpful, but he was also with the people who had captured and almost executed her, and for that she bore a small grudge.

     It was in the tunnels, after she lost Hadvar that she ended up running into Ralof again.

      “You made it!” he exclaimed happily upon recognizing her face. Rowena nodded.

     “Where did the rest of the prisoners go?” she asked. She didn’t see anyone else with the blonde warrior and immediately assumed they were crushed in the ruins of the house.

     “We got separated when the dragon collapsed that burning shack on us. I’m sure Ulfric will make it out though, he has to…” Ralof’s voice trailed off as he thought about his king. Rowena could not bring herself to comfort the man, there was a very good chance that the Regal Man would not make it out alive. So, instead of giving him false hope, she chose to just shrug and move deeper into the cave. Ralof followed her after a few steps.

     “So, where are you actually from? You do not seem a Nord to me,” Ralof commented after several minutes of walking in tense silence. His accented voice echoed off the walls and created a din in the tunnel that was slightly unsettling.

     “As I said, far away from here,” was all Rowena said in return. She did not wish to tell her story, wary of the reaction. “I am human, only human…” her voice trailed off as she felt a pang at the loss of her worgen form.

      Unlike many of her kin, she welcomed the worgen form. She never did think of it as a curse, despite those who insisted otherwise. It gave her the power to protect herself, her home, and what she believed in. Now, the worgen was gone, like so many of her other hard-learned abilities, and she was reduced.

     “Yes, I can see that you are human, but what _kind_ of human are you?” Ralof asked in confusion. _What?_ Ralof’s question confused her, and she turned to look at him.

     “What? I am human, nothing more, nothing less, there is no ‘kind’ of human where I am from,” she explained simply. Ralof’s brows knit together at her answer.

     “That makes no sense,” he muttered after several seconds of silence.

     “Make of it what you will, but I cannot claim to be something that I am not,” was all she said in response before turning to continue down the tunnel.

     Ralof, however, was not so ready to give up on the topic.

     “You could be a Breton, you have that look about you; fair, light, and not quite as human as an Imperial, or a Nord,” he hummed from behind her as he followed behind. Rowena grunted absently.

     “You could also be of the Men, but your features are a bit too…hmm, otherworldly? You’re not rugged, or blonde enough, to be a Nord. And you’re not an Imperial, because you’re too pretty.” Rowena rolled her eyes again at the blatant distaste for Imperials that Ralof didn’t mind expressing.

     “Great, thanks Ralof. Let’s just say I am a…Breton then, and leave it at that?”

     “Nah, Lass, you said you couldn’t claim to be something you’re not, so we’ll just call you a ‘human’.” Ralof only grinned at her when she huffed in exasperation and looked back at him with a glare, and they soon lapsed into a companionable silence.

     The rest of the walk was uneventful, save for a few very large spiders and eventually they came to an opening that led outside. Rowena stepped out of the tunnel and into the forest and raised her face to the sky, in the distance she could see the black dragon from the town disappearing behind a peak as his roar echoed with an eerie din off the mountain faces.

     “My sister, Gerdur, lives in Riverwood, its close, you’d be welcome there too,” Ralof broke the silence after giving her a few moments to breathe the fresh air.

     “Okay,” was all she said as she fell into step behind the blonde warrior. Her mind wandered as they walked. She thought of Azeroth and she wondered how she’d be able to get back. _Maybe I’m stuck here permanently._ It wouldn’t be so bad really, this land was full of magic and its own wonders. It wasn’t so different from Azeroth. _But it’s not home,_ she thought with a sigh.

     “What ails you?” Ralof looked over his shoulder at her.

     “I have thoughts of…home. I’ve been away for a while now, and I fear I will never see it again,” she decided that telling the blonde warrior that much wouldn’t hurt, he had been helpful in her escape, he seemed trustworthy, and he was easy to talk to.

     “What is it like, your home?”

     “It’s beautiful. The mountains reach for the sky, the air is crisp and clean, the hills are rolling, and the fields are golden under the warm sun. Yet, it’s war-torn and damaged, it’s wrought with strife and poverty. The danger of death constantly looms over those who choose a life of adventure and battle, and every day the stability of the land is threatened by some other invading force…but, it’s home.” The torrent of words left her mouth in a rush. Ralof had stopped to turn around and look at her as she spoke, having also come to a stop.

     “Aye,” was all he said before he continued walking. A small smile tugged and Rowena’s lips. Maybe these Nords weren’t so petty after all.

     Rowena followed Ralof along the mountain path. The surrounding forest and the crisp air was reminiscent of the Hyjal Mountains, and she found herself enjoying Ralof’s company. It was nice to talk to someone again, after all the time she spent alone upon first finding herself in Skyrim. Ralof told her of his time growing up in Riverwood, his time with his family and his sister. He told her about how he was always rambunctious, aggressive and full of energy, and why he could never see himself with a life in a town like Riverwood. So, he left and got his first job in Whiterun as a guard and was working his way up the ranks when he heard about the war between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials. Two days later he told her that he had quit and enlisted in the Stormcloak army. Rowena nodded and smiled along as she listened, showing her engagement in the conversation. She was glad that Ralof seemed more than happy to do absolutely _all_ of the talking.

     Rowena first spotted Riverwood as they were descending the mountain path towards the river. The village was nestled right up against the river in the shadow of a mountain and looked so quaint that Rowena felt herself cringe at the domesticity that practically oozed from its gates.

     Ralof noticed her gaze and smiled fondly at the view of his childhood home.

     “There it is, I just hope Gerdur won’t embarrass me too much,” Ralof winked at her and Rowena was confused, which must have shown on her face because Ralof’s cheeks turned pink. “You know, because I’m bringing someone home? Someone who’s…female?” Ralof’s voice hitched with embarrassment and it dawned on Rowena. She burst into shocked laughter.

     “Ralof, if you’re hitting on me, you’re doing an absolutely _awful_ job.” Still smirking, Rowena continued down the rest of the path towards Riverwood. Ralof grunted and quickly fell into step beside her, his cheeks still stained a deep shade of pink.

     “I wasn’t hitting on you, I just wanted to lighten the mood. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” Ralof mumbled as they walked.

     “No harm done Ralof, I am a bit out of touch when it comes to…well, social interaction, I suppose. I laughed in the end, so you were successful either way,” Rowena smiled tentatively up at the still blushing warrior, and his embarrassed grimace eased into an easy smile.

     “I’m glad, then.”

 --

     Their arrival through the gates of Riverwood was heralded by the town dog; a big, scruffy creature that was all too eager to dole out face kisses and playful nips. Rowena took the brunt of the dogs’ attention as Ralof laughed at her pitiful attempts to get it to heel.

     “Ralof, do something!” Rowena grunted as the dog threw its weight at her. Ralof only laughed harder. Rowena was only saved when she heard a sharp whistle that brought the excitable dog to sit on its haunches. Sighing in relief she wiped her face and straightened her leathers before shooting a glare at Ralof who only smirked cheekily back at her. His smile quickly fell from his face at a sharp reprimand.

     “Ralof Stormcloak, you would let a lady be mauled by a dog like that?” A stern, but pretty woman stalked towards the now contrite blonde and poked him solidly in the chest.

     “Aw, c’mon Gerdur, she’s hardly a lady,” Ralof’s response didn’t impress the woman and she scowled harder. Ralof quickly raised his hands in a surrender gesture.

     “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, but she could handle it; she’s tougher than she looks.” Rowena stepped forward and introduced herself.

     “Hello, I’m Rowena, I met your brother in Helgen,” Rowena dipped her head slightly in respect. “We escaped together.”

     “Escaped? What do you mean?” Gerdur’s hand fell back to her side and she looked at back to Ralof in question as her scowl faded into a look of confusion. Ralof sighed tiredly and clapped her on the shoulder.

     “Let’s get inside and get some food in our bellies before I tell you the story.”

 --

      Gerdur sat back with an incredulous look on her face. Their plates sat empty in front of them and they each held a half-empty mug of ale. Ralof had related the events at Helgen with a clinical detachment over a simple meal of venison and garden vegetables. Hod remained silent with a thoughtful look on his face throughout, while Gerdur often interrupted with questions. Rowena provided small facts or offered her experiences at Ralof’s prodding, but was content to let him tell the bulk of the tale.

     “If I hadn’t seen the smoke from behind the mountain I’d be disinclined to believe you Ralof,” Gerdur commented as they finished off their ale. “As it is, I also don’t think you are creative enough to come up with such a story by yourself.” Hod snorted into his mug as Ralof sputtered with indignation. Rowena barely suppressed a laugh as Ralof looked to her for help. She shook her head slightly and smirked back. _For not helping me with the dog._ Ralof read the thought in her eyes and his eyebrows pulled together as he scowled.

     “In all seriousness though, what do we do now?” Gerdur broke the easy atmosphere. Ralof finished his ale in one last swig and set his mug down with a heavy clack.

      “I don’t really know. I suppose I will go back to Windhelm, I have a feeling that Ulfric will have gone straight there if he escaped Helgen. From there I will continue to do what needs to be done.” Ralof’s words were heavy. Rowena’s gut lurched at the mention of Ulfric; that man always made something in the back of her mind wriggle and she couldn’t place why.

      “That’s all well and good, but what about your friend here? I didn’t want to mention anything, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like her,” Gerdur stared straight at Rowena. “I doubt Ulfric would be willing to just let her into his ranks.” Ralof’s eyes tightened as he came to the same realization.

      “You’re right. She’s not from around these parts, and it definitely shows,” Rowena just sat there, uncomfortable, but unwilling to add anything to their speculation. _The less they know, the better…probably._

      “She can stay here, with Hod and I. We could definitely use the help around the mill,” Gerdur seemed genuinely happy about the idea as Hod nodded along agreeably. Rowena winced at the thought. It wasn’t that Gerdur and Hod were unpleasant people or that she didn’t like them, but such a domestic lifestyle would have her going crazy in less than a day. Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Hod laughed.

       “I don’t think your miss enjoys that idea too much, Ralof,” Hod’s deep voice boomed with amusement. Rowena blushed in embarrassment at being caught.

       “I wasn’t going to suggest something like that. She’s a good fighter and very sneaky. She would be a perfect addition to the Stormcloaks, but I’d have to speak with the higher ups first.” Rowena balked at the idea of picking a side in this war, she had done more than enough of that on Azeroth. Finally, she decided to speak up.

       “Why don’t I make myself useful and travel to the various towns and cities to warn them about the attack at Helgen. The dragon got away, so he’s still out there,” Rowena supplied and all the heads in the room turned to look at her, as if they had forgotten she could actually speak. Rowena cleared her throat and continued. “If Ralof is returning to Windhelm as soon as possible, I can go on my own and try to prepare others for any potential attacks.” She’d also be free to try and find herself a way back to Azeroth as she was traveling around.

       “Will you be fine by yourself?” Gerdur frowned. Rowena plastered a reassuring smile on her face and nodded.

       “I will be. As Ralof said, I am a very experience fighter and I’ve been on my own more often than not,” Rowena put as much confidence and reassurance in her tone as she could muster. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck somewhere or caught up in a war that she had no place participating in. She just wanted to find a way home and if she had to help a few locals here and there to earn some coin, so be it. “I shouldn’t impose any more than I already have, and if I can warn some towns before a dragon attacks it might save lives.” Rowena knew those were the right words as soon as she saw Gerdur’s eyes light up with hope.           

     “Alright, you make a sound argument.” Gerdur relented and Rowena almost melted in relief. She wanted to have a few allies here for that ‘just in case’ scenario and blatantly disregarding any kindness offered her was not the way to gain any.

     “I’ll be leaving for Windhelm the day after tomorrow, why don’t you rest up here and then we’ll depart together, lass?” Ralof suggested as he stood to begin clearing the table. “The road splits a few miles out and you can continue on to Whiterun as your first stop.” Rowena could make this small concession, as eager as she was to be off right away, so she nodded.

     “That sounds like a good plan.”

 --

            Two days later Rowena was equipped with a map of Skyrim and a leather satchel that was slung over her right shoulder. Gerdur had insisted on sending her off with some supplies; snacks, an extra linen shirt and a few coins. Rowena had earned the coins by helping around the mill while Ralof wrote correspondence to his fellow Stormcloaks. Apparently, The Regal Man was alive and well and had made it back to Windhelm. Ralof had perked up considerably after learning about his leaders’ safe return, almost like a physical weight was lifted from his shoulders. Rowena was indifferent about The Regal Man, but she was happy that her friend was happy.

     Rowena stood awkwardly off to the side as Ralof and Gerdur bid each other goodbye. Surprisingly, there were no tears, but then Gerdur wasn’t the teary farewell sort of person for which Rowena was immensely glad. When Gerdur had said her goodbyes Hod stepped up and slapped Ralof on the back and rumbled out a simple farewell. Ralof thanked the both of them and then turned to her; ready to be off.

    “Thank you for everything,” Rowena put as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. “May you fair well.” With a nod to the both of them, Rowena turned and followed Ralof out of Riverwood.

     They walked together speaking little, and only of trivial things for the better portion of the day. When the sun began to dip behind the mountains, a sign of late afternoon, Ralof began to slow.

     “The fork in the road is just up ahead, I turn to head north towards Windhelm.” Rowena turned to look at the blonde warrior, he seemed…sad.

      “I am glad to have met you, Ralof of Riverstead,” Rowena dipped her head to him. “Have a safe journey.” She offered him a small smile as his eyes tightened. _He didn’t seem this sad when saying goodbye to Gerdur._

      “I am glad to have escaped Helgen with you, strange human. I will miss you and I wish you could come with me. I do not know if we will meet again but if you ever find yourself up north, ask for me in Windhelm.” _Ah, he’s right. We may never cross paths again, now it makes sense._ Rowena understood then, that this was probably the last time she would speak with the kind blonde warrior and she felt a small lurch in her chest. She hadn’t planned on making friends and without realizing it, she had become fond of Ralof. _Friends are dangerous._ Rowena had her own quest to complete and she had no intention of getting caught up in the affairs of a world that was not her own. She needed to get back to Azeroth before she found herself wanting to remain in Skyrim.

       “I will remember your kindness,” Rowena held out her arm to brace the blonde warrior. He reached out and instead of bracing her back, pulled her to him and hugged her tightly, fiercely. Rowena grunted in surprise and her hands hovered awkwardly over the broad expanse of Ralof’s back.

       “True friends are hard to come by these days. I will also remember you, Rowena and I will pray to all the gods and then some that our paths may cross again.” Ralof’s words rumbled through Rowena and she found herself partly wishing that she could just follow the blonde warrior to Windhelm after all. _No! You have your own mission, **do not** get distracted. _Another breath and the warrior released her. Clapping her on the shoulder he turned without another word and started north. Rowena followed his steps for several breaths and then turned towards Whiterun.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I am a huge nerd and somehow managed to create a whole headcannon out of something that I began as a way to channel anxiety. I am in love with the World of Warcraft and Skyrim universes, and I hope that I am able to do them both justice. Updates will not be regular, but I have written ahead, and I will post as often as I can...I honestly don't entirely know where this will end up.  
> Comments are always appreciated.


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